Fireball
by CorvidaeCorvusCorax
Summary: John and Gilly meet for the first time. One-shot, Pyro. Not sure when it takes place, likely between 1 and 2. Part One of the Fireball series.


_Author's note: It's been almost five years since my last completed story on this website. I went yesterday and decided to delete quite a few of my old stories and save Anomaly. Typically, I used to write Toad fanfics exclusively. I'm kind of out of my comfort zone here and giving the fanfic waters a feel again so here it is, my first story in quite some time. This is intended to be a series of one-shots between my own character Gilly (soft G) and Pyro. Mostly friendship that kind of maybe might evolve later on._

* * *

 **Fireball**

People called her Gilly-not that that's her name. Her real name was Lillian Rasmussen, and her nickname was earned one fateful night at a party where she and John met. It was just before Halloween, and there was a get together among mutants in the area-which eventually evolved into a thunderous soiree with music so loud it vibrated his entire chest.

Gilly was seventeen at the time. Simply put, she left home to find others like her. She stood at five and a half feet tall and wore varying hues of black. Her hair was dyed to match and her bangs drifted off to the right side of her face.

He and Bobby were there as friends. Gilly was there with her friend, Heather Poole. They were from out of town and heard about it through a mutual friend. Things were going swell until Gilly and John were alone on the porch out back, behind the house when she was offered a shot of mystery alcohol from a girl in a skimpy dress. The only thing the two remembered was that it smelled like fireball candies-both going in and coming out.

"You sure you can handle that?" He smirked at her.

"I can handle it," She noticed she had a slight slur to her words, but played it off as her native Bostonian accent. Before he could object, she knocked back the shot. Her entire mouth stung for a second and the sensation traveled down her throat.

She was fine for all of twenty seconds-thirty at most. John watched as the color drained from her face (not that there was much to begin with). Suddenly she had dark circles under her eyes and her lips went pale, the burning sensation went from her stomach and back up her throat. She managed to turn away from him at the very least, but he did end up with some on his shoes.

Vomit ended up everywhere. The people on the porch with them didn't think it was funny at first, but managed to find some comedy in the situation. John, on the other hand, didn't quite like having to handle a drunk teenager covered in vomit that smelled like cinnamon. After puking she made it three steps before fainting for a moment or two. After about a minute of holding her up in a sitting position on the stairs, she came back to her senses.

By this point, Heather found them, and decided that Gilly wasn't in any condition to party out the rest of the night, "Maybe I should take her home."

"I'm fine!" She insisted. John helped her to her feet again, when she stumbled she added, "We should probably go for a walk first. Clear my head a little."

That was the last time he saw her that evening. She didn't thank him or apologize or even say goodbye. He assumed she made it home okay with her friend Heather. He ended up leaving ten minutes later with Bobby.

"Why do you smell like cinnamon?" Bobby asked.

John shook his head in disappointment, "Some girl couldn't handle a little Fireball."

* * *

A few weeks later, the incident was more or less forgotten about-not without some jabs from John's friends of course.

While he was walking between classes, he realized he forgot something in his room and ran back across the school to his dorm. Passing through the foyer, he spotted a girl sitting on the stairs filling out papers. She had a black suitcase at her feet and was trying to shield herself from students flooding the staircase.

He walked closer to her and realized almost immediately who she was.

Sensing she was being stared at, she looked up at him with big, green eyes. It was the girl from the party. The embarrassment bubbled up in his stomach again.

"Hey," He said casually.

She gave him a strange look, like she had no idea who he was, "Hi."

He tried to figure out how exactly to introduce himself before finally blurting out, "You threw up on me."

With that she seemed to realize who he was, "Oh, that was you. Of all the places in New York to find you again." She seemed to blush a bit, "Yeah, sorry about that. I don't really remember much about that night. If Heather didn't tell everyone what happened I'd probably forget that too."

"Not gonna lie, I kind of forgot about it too," He lied, "So what are you doing here?"

"I was staying at this hostel for runaway mutants down in District X," She explained, "Heather wanted to go back to Massachusetts and I wanted to stay in New York. If I'm being honest, if it wasn't for her I wouldn't have made it home safe so I decided to look for a better place."

"Well, this place is secure," He agreed, "Not too many parties around here."

"The less the better. I'm hoping this place'll help me get into college. One stupid party after another isn't exactly the best way to do that, apparently." She stuffed her papers in her purse and rose to her feet, her full height just under his nose, "I actually kind of need help finding Xavier's office again. I got lost looking for a quiet place to work on these forms."

"I can walk you," He stuffed his hands in his pockets in an attempt to seem laid back.

"Thanks," She said, sticking her hand out, "Call me Gilly. It's, uh, short for McGillicuddy." She smirked, a facial expression he mirrored.

"John," He shook her hand, "Just please don't throw up on me again." He liked it when her face turned pink.


End file.
